


They are the hunters they are the foxes

by Fionakevin073



Series: Long Live All the Magic We Made [17]
Category: The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Family, Fear, Gen, Revelation, Truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 05:19:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14784284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fionakevin073/pseuds/Fionakevin073
Summary: Where the boys find out the truth.





	They are the hunters they are the foxes

**Author's Note:**

> A/N Hey guys! Surprise surprise! Double update! Here is a short one shot that SaphireShelle91 requested. Hope you guys enjoy! 
> 
> Until next time,   
> Fionakevn073
> 
> Summary: Where the boys find out the truth.

i. 

 

The realisation that the boys will need to know the truth someday weighs on Anne. She’s always known that it would happen in the back of her mind. Before — before Anne had become Queen once more, she had simply told the boys that while her and their father loved them all very much, they were no longer married. Only Elizabeth knew the truth — to some degree anyway. She knew that her mother was once the Queen, and then she wasn’t. 

 

It had been easier to put off the inevitable when the boys were mere babes in the cradle, who cared not for the trials of the world and only for their mother’s love. 

 

She watches her boys grow. Watches as their shoulders broaden and their legs grow longer and how that wonderful childhood innocence lingers in their eyes still. 

 

Their innocence has not yet been broken by the corruption around them. By the vultures that circle around their crowns. 

 

Anne must tell them the truth one day, and it is the thing she fears most in this world.

 

ii. 

 

Henry loves all of his children. He does. 

 

And he knows his children love him in turn. 

 

But he does not miss the way Elizabeth eyes him warily whenever he and Anne fight; the way suspicion gleams in her eyes when she catches him talking to another woman. She never speaks against him, his special girl, and is charming and lively like no other, but Henry knows that she knows the truth and that she thinks less of him because of it. 

 

It breaks his heart to realise that. 

 

He can’t bear to have his boys think less of him too. He can’t think of them being wary to come into his arms, to doubt his love for them. His affection. It drives him mad only to think of it. Perhaps he should be less prideful; should care less for what his family thinks of him. But Henry has always desired to be loved by everyone. 

 

His family is no exception. 

 

And so he vows to do whatever he can to redeem himself in their eyes. 

 

But he talks of it with Anne. 

 

The look of sheer terror and worry on her features breaks his heart. 

 

“How can we tell them that?” she asks him. Tears swim in her eyes. “How can we tell them that their father —“ 

 

They wince simultaneously. 

 

“Not now,” they both agree. 

 

“When they are older.” 

 

iii. 

 

Henry dies before they get the chance to tell them the truth. 

 

They’ve heard whispers of course. They know that Anne and Henry were separated for some reason. They know about Jane Seymour. 

 

But her boys are only ten when their father dies, and Anne can not bear to ruin his memory. Not yet, anyway. In truth, all thoughts of telling them of what occurred slips through her mind as she works through her grief and the brief chaos that erupts after Henry’s death. 

 

She is trying to maintain stability for her son until he comes of age. She is trying so hard. She will tell him, when the time is right. In her own way. 

 

— 

 

Anne does not get the chance. 

 

The boys and Elizabeth are on their way from Eltham Palace when their carriage breaks down. The nearest castle, as fate would have it, is Wolf Hall, the seat of Edward Seymour. 

 

After Jane’s death, the Seymour’s power dwindled. By the time Anne was made Queen once more, Edward Seymour and his brother had long since returned Wolf Hall. 

 

When Anne hears that her children are at Wolf Hall, Mary is with her. 

 

“Nothing good ever came out of a Tudor going to Wolf Hall,” she tells her sister. 

 

And she is right. 

 

iv. 

 

Elizabeth is wary of the look in the Seymour brother’s eyes when they look at her and her brothers. They are courteous of course, and offer them their ‘humble abode’ for however long it takes for their carriage to be fixed. 

 

Elizabeth relaxes when they are left alone. 

 

She watches with amusement as her brothers squabble over something. 

 

“What are you fighting about?” she questions in a motherly tone. 

 

They all exchange a look. 

 

“Were you named after Papa’s mother or Mama’s?” Francis asks. 

 

Elizabeth laughs at the angry look on their faces. 

 

“Both,” she replies. 

 

“Who were we named after?” 

 

Elizabeth stops smiling. 

 

“Yeah, who were we named after Lizzie?” George questions, with William and Mark staring at her with wide, ernest gazes. 

 

“You were named after Mama’s younger brother George, who died before you were born.” 

 

She tries to make herself sound more confident than she feels. 

 

“And what about us?” 

 

Elizabeth is not quite sure what happens next. One moment, it is only her and her brothers, and before she realises it, Edward Seymour is in the room. He tells them of the four men their father had killed, how their ‘virtuous’ mother had named them after those unjustly slain. If Elizabeth were not so startled by the drastic turn of events, she would have bristled at the blatant disrespect in his voice. 

 

She startles back to life when William yells, “That isn’t true! Papa would never do that to us!” 

 

Lord Seymour’s smile is cruel as he stares at them, and Elizabeth is reminded of the arrogant man who was stuck on his sister’s side like a bad rash. The triumph that had been in his eyes. The arrogance. He looks only broken now. 

 

“You will leave our presence Sir,” Elizabeth commands, hurrying over to her brothers to shield them from his gaze. “Immediately.” 

 

It takes a while to get the boys to calm down. 

 

“Father was tricked into thinking Mama was guilty,” she tells them repeatedly. “He genuinely believed that Mama had simply been using his love for years, and that she had been dishonouring him for all that time.” 

 

“But — but he tried to _kill_ her.” 

 

Elizabeth sighs. Though a part of her struggles to reconcile the father she knew with the man who almost had her mother executed, she knew that her mother would not want them to speak ill of their father, no matter what. 

 

“Mama managed to forgive him,” is all she can think of to say. “Mama managed to fall in love with him and be happy with him after everything. If she can do so, so can we. What Father did in the past did not change the fact that he loved us. All of us. It does not change the fact that Papa loved our Mother, alright? There are people who will try to break us like before and we must not let them win. We are family, and we love each other no matter what. Understand? Even if the hunters and the foxes try to break us, understand?” 

 

The boys look at each other for a moment. 

 

“We understand,” they echo. 

 

_End._

 


End file.
